Sunday, 20 November 2011

On Thursday we braved the M25/40 trudge (complimented by beautiful
sweeping views of late, low autumn honey-lit landscapes and at least ten
squillion red kites) in order to get to the Oxford Playhouse. What had we gone to see? Well, the choice was either ‘Mother Goose’ (I’m
not sitting through a production described as an ‘eggs-travaganza’) or ‘Clytemnestra’. Thankfully, the booking staff were excellent
(or should that be ‘egg-celent’?) over the phone and we were sorted with three
seats for the Oxford Greek Play.

The Oxford Greek play is performed in...well, Greek. I wish I could say that I had no need for the
big, clear subtitle screens on each side of the stage, but alas, my degree was
entirely in translation. Even without
language skills, I was really looking forward to hearing the tragedy in the
original language. There is something
particularly musical about ancient Greek which suits the long, rhythmical
speeches so beloved of Aeschylus. And
this ‘Clytemnestra’, despite the name, was an Aeschylus play – specifically the
Choephoroi or Libation Bearers (the
second play of the great tragic trilogy of the Oresteia).

So, a quick run-down of the plot – Agamemnon, high king of
the Greeks, has been a busy bunny. Not
only has he killed his own daughter for a good breeze to get his ships to Troy,
he’s also sacked the city (albeit after ten years siege), and has come home,
slave girl in tow. His wife,
Clytemnestra, however, was not impressed by this behaviour and, with her new
beau, set about planning his end. In the
first play of the trilogy, she tangled him up in a net of fabric while he was in
the bath and set to him with a knife.

So far, so Essex.

And to make matters worse, there are more kids
involved. The surviving daughter,
Electra, being a girl, hasn't got much sway, but she is not impressed with mummy’s
murderous ways. Orestes (the son whose
name graces the trilogy) had been exiled for fear he might interfere, but by
the time the Libation Bearers kicks off he’s back in town hungry for revenge. The great god Apollo had told him he must do
something about the crime (the killing of his father, not his father’s massacre
of a nation, the sacrifice of his own daughter or any of that stuff. Priorities, you know?) and by doing what he’s
told, he’ll be safe from any sort of come back.

The play, then, is all about Orestes’ revenge, and this comes
down to murdering Clytemnestra’s new fella, and, eventually, killing his own
mother as well. Obviously, with such a
heavy job to do, there’s a lot to talk about. And this is what Aeschylus does so well...

So, on to the play itself.
Firstly, I object to the title.
Call me fussy, but I love the chorus of mourning women (especially in
this cast – not a weak member) and as they not only start off the theme of the
play, but also take charge of the narrative and force the outcome (rare in
ancient Greek drama) it is appropriate that they influence the title. Clytemnestra is really pretty inconsequential
– it’s all about a man’s worth, a man’s revenge, and a man’s eventual justice
(albeit with the aid of a female goddess, but that’s another play entirely...)

My other major criticism was the lack of the line “Bring me
my MAN KILLING AXE”. There has not been
such an amazing line in drama before or since, and anyone who fails to use it also fails to appreciate the full weight
of the drama. It is not just a fatal
axe. It’s a MAN KILLING AXE!

Aside from that, it was bliss. The actress who played Electra entered the
stage with a fractured beauty, her voice suiting the language so well I could
have wept. The stage design (a nod to
both the Greek and Oriental) worked perfectly, and there were balletic touches
(the weaving of a ribbon simulating the pouring of a libation, for example)
which complimented and raised the heavy verse.

My pain-killers had worn off by the end of the first half
and I was in a pretty bad way. The fresh
dose kicked in as the curtains rose for the second half. It was a rather magical moment as the light
caught on metal. In one of the best
pieces of set design I have ever seen, they had constructed full size Doric columns
from multiple lengths of chain suspended between solid capital and base. Sadly, the Star Trek style door of the main
building did not work (although I’d now like someone to set Medea in a hotel
ala The Shining), but aside from that, the rest of the stage craft, including
costume, was great.

Oh, and not to go on about things that were wrong in my
opinion, but there was this: I could see
something I shouldn’t, and couldn’t something I should. No, it’s not the pills. You see, the ‘silent character’ is important
to all the plays of the trilogy.
Agamemnon has the ‘silent’ figure of Clytemnestra (sits there for ages
before screaming and leaping around) and the Libation Bearers has Pylades. But poor Pylades was only there in name, and
as such his one line (which effectively amounts to ‘go on, kill your mum, you
know you have to’) becomes an uncomfortable aside. This was a mistake. Instead, plagued by his mothers curse, we see
the Furies assaulting him when Orestes clearly tells us ‘you lot can’t see
this, but...’. I understand why they’ve
done this (you get to meet the Furies in the third play of the trilogy, and
they don’t want you to miss out on the ‘pleasure’ when you’re there just to see
play number 2), but it somewhat misses the point of what’s so scary about the
scene anyway. If, under the influence of
my pain-killers, I’d got up and started screaming about the purple spiders
eating my arm-pit hair, part of the fear the audience would felt would have
come from not seeing something that had so upset me.

Even so, this still remains the best tragedy I have ever
seen. Even better than the Hippolytus
where Theseus tripped over his cloak when carrying his dead wife. Yeah, I know, I don’t have a great frame of
reference, but trust me, this was something special and I enjoyed it very much.

Finally, if I’d been the cast, I’d have set about the
audience with an axe (fatal...man-killing...it doesn’t matter which). I’ve never known so many people to laugh inappropriately,
and how it didn’t put off the actors I’ll never know. It just makes me respect them all the more.